Medal of Valor
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Marrissa Story. Set after "The Seventh Fleet" Marrissa learns that she is about to receive the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor and is not sure she wants it.


**_Author's Note_** _: This has long been in my works in progress folder, and I opened it the other day to discover that it was almost finished, so I finished it and decided to post it after Chapterizing_ The Seventh Fleet _. I won't bet on more Marrissa Stories, but feedback has always been a way that encourages more works of the same type._

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard sat at her desk in the Command Offices of the Stargazer. She was the only one there. Lieutenant Lavelle's clock had just chimed twelve times for midnight. She'd been there since seventeen hundred hours. The PADD in front of her was still blank.

How did one put into words the events of the last two days? How did one tell a family that their father, the rock on which they depended was dead? How did you explain that you'd come back when his ship and a hundred others did not? How could you tell of the valor shown by the late Captain Sinclair when his ship had stayed behind so yours could survive without marring it?

A chime rang, announcing the arrival of someone not of the Stargazer's Command Team. Marrissa looked up and uttered a single word softly. "Come." The door parted revealing Rear Admiral Jean-Luc Picard, Marrissa's father. She stood immediately, but not quickly. She was tired, having been up since five hundred hours.

"Dad, I didn't know you were coming aboard," Marrissa said, standing at attention.

"Sit down, Marrissa," Jean-Luc said, detouring over to the replicator. "I see that Jay is still having a hard time getting you to stop overworking. Tea, Earl Gray, hot." Her father's favorite beverage appeared swiftly. Then with a glance to her, he ordered, "Caffeinated cherry juice, chilled, fifth ice, cubed." A new glass of her favorite late night pick up appeared.

"Not at all, sir," Marrissa replied, not sitting until her father did. "Assuming he knows I'm doing so, he's perfectly capable of distracting me from duty to get some rest." The glass of cherry juice joined three empties on her side of the desk.

"Hopefully not with the intention of taking you to bed," Jean-Luc said dryly. Marrissa immediately felt her cheeks blush. Jean-Luc's eyes twinkled with amusement, as he took a sip of his tea. Marrissa was well aware that her father, and for that matter a great number of those who knew her, expected her and Jay to get together romantically someday. Right now they were just very good friends ... if you didn't count Jay's goodnight kisses, which Marrissa eagerly accepted.

"No, sir," Marrissa said. She was sitting up straight in her chair, her hands gripping the ends of the armrest.

"Very well then," Jean-Luc said. "I've just received a message from Star Fleet Command. They've decided to award you the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor."

Marrissa knew all the awards and honors that Star Fleet could bestow on its officers. The Christopher Pike Medal of Valor could only be awarded for extraordinary actions in battle. It was a decoration that even her father had not yet obtained, though Commander Riker had received one for his actions against the Borg. Though to be honest, he had turned it down three times. Marrissa had never been decorated for anything. She hadn't deserved it, and hadn't sought it out.

She'd just come out of a battle that had resulted in the destruction of a hundred and one ships and the abandonment of another. Over forty-five thousand personnel had died during the battle. She'd escaped, run. Though she had destroyed the enemy forces behind her, she'd also doomed the Armageddon and Captain Sinclair to incineration in the nova she'd triggered.

"Inform Star Fleet that I respectfully decline," Marrissa said, trying to keep her voice calm. She didn't deserve such a high honor.

"I think this is something you should consider accepting, Marrissa," Jean-Luc said. His voice was even and strong. "You've never turned down anything before, rank, honor, or position."

"Why should I accept something I don't deserve?" Marrissa said. She could hear her tiredness in her voice, as she suppressed a yawn. "I escaped. Captain Sinclair did not."

"Marrissa, I've seen your report," Jean-Luc said, leaning towards her and letting his elbows rest on her desk. "There are not many Captains that could have extracted themselves out of the trap that the Dominion had sprung on the Seventh Fleet, much less destroying all opposition behind them. Admiral Andante would have been remiss in his duty if he hadn't submitted your name for the award."

"Maybe, but I still don't want it," Marrissa said, before finally failing to suppress her yawn. "It would cheapen the award by giving it to a fifteen-year-old Lieutenant Commander who doesn't even command her own ship, nor desire to do so."

"I highly doubt that you don't desire your own command some day," Jean-Luc said. "I also doubt that giving a Christopher Pike to a young officer who destroyed over two hundred enemy ships and a major repair base in the course of using an daring withdrawal requiring the upmost coordination is going to cheapen the award."

"Dad, I've been the Youngest Ensign, Lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander, Chief of Security, Second Officer, First Officer, and I'll probably end up setting the marks for the rest of the ranks if I make them, to say nothing about the positions," Marrissa said, stiffening in her chair. "I thought those were honors. They aren't. Do you have any idea how many people resent me for how well I've done? A lot more than those that like me, I'm sure. First Officer isn't an easy job, but attitudes like that just make things worse. I get along pretty well with the Stargazer's crew. I've proven to them that I can do the job, but anyone who I haven't personally proved myself to doesn't even give me the difference that any other Lieutenant Commander or First Officer would get. Adding youngest ever to receive the Christopher Pike Medal of Honor would just be adding fuel to the fire. Give it to the late Captain Sinclair, not me."

Marrissa slumped back in her chair and yawned again. She was so tired. She would never finish this letter. Her left hand idly pushed her first draft away.

"Captain Sinclair will get his award," Jean-Luc said. "He deserves it just like you do, though it is sad that like so many Christopher Pikes, he will not get to see it."

"He should have," Marrissa said, tears beginning to run down her cheeks, her vison blurring. "He should have come with us. I wanted him to. I had a place for him in the formation. He didn't come."

"He gave his life and that of his crew so you and yours would live," Jean-Luc said. Marrissa blinked and realized that he was beside her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder. "He trusted you to get the other ships out of there while he occupied the enemy. Sinclair didn't have to do that. In fact none of the Captains had to follow you. You were a junior officer taking charge and giving hope when they knew none."

"I knew a way out, anyone could have thought of it," Marrissa said. She didn't restrain he tears. "I just had to let the others know."

"And the others listened to you and followed you," Jean-Luc said. "Did any of them know you before the battle?" Marrissa shook her head. "They trust you and your orders. I'm sure you didn't stop to think of what you were doing. It was the heat of battle, and you had commands, orders that saved the day. The remnants of the Seventh Fleet recognized that. Even Captain Sinclair recognized that. Your ship was the only one that could have taken the point in that formation. You had to take charge. You did. Your command is safe, so now you sit here, doing your final duty as acting Commanding Officer of the Seventh Fleet in Battle."

Jean-Luc picked up the PADD and began to read.

Dear Mrs. Julie Sinclair,

I regret to inform you that your husband has fallen in battle, perishing along with the entire compliment of the USS Armageddon and over a hundred other ships of the Seventh Fleet. At the time of the Armageddon's destruction command of the Fleet had devolved to him.

The Armageddon had already lost its warp drive, preventing his escape. Though the odds were against him, he fought a valiant rear-guard action to enable the escape of my ship and that of a dozen others. His actions saved my life and that of three thousand others, before the Armageddon was destroyed.

Star Fleet, the Seventh Fleet, and I mourn his loss. Should there be anything we can do to help you in this time of sorrow, please do not hesitate to contact us.

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa A. Picard

Acting Commanding Officer, Seventh Fleet

First Officer USS Stargazer NCC-2893

"It's not good enough to send yet," Marrissa said, with a sob. "I can't put enough in it and still sound right."

"Marrissa, it doesn't have to be perfect, and you've written an almost text book letter," Jean-Luc said. Marrissa felt his arm going around her shoulders as he kneeled next to her. "This is the first time you've had to write one for a superior officer, isn't it?" Marrissa nodded. "This is ready to send."

"Okay," Marrissa said. Another yawn overtook her. "I'll send it, then. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight, though." She straightened up.

"Why not?" Jean-Luc asked, as he sat down on the corner of Marrissa's desk.

"I'll be up all night anticipating disaster," Marrissa said, idly kicking one of her desk's legs. "Even if I turn down the Christopher Pike, if the mere fact that I was offered it gets out it could be worse than when the Press got wind of my commission following Queen Victoria's accession."

"Star Fleet does not give decorations to court public approval," Jean-Luc said. "It gives them where merit has earned them."

"Someone has to suggest them and approve them," Marrissa said, kicking the leg again. "The Commendations and Decorations Board has to sign off on them. I hardly think they're likely to look favorably on a fifteen-year-old getting the Star Fleet's highest award for valor."

"None the less, that's what they have done, Marrissa," Jean-Luc said, standing up. "Quinn is awaiting your answer."

"Admiral Quinn's the retired fleet representative on the board?" Marrissa asked. Jean-Luc nodded. "I now know how this happened. After you heard my name had been submitted, you talked to Quinn, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Jean-Luc said. "But only because you deserved it, and I would be derelict in my duties if I hadn't."

"I highly doubt that," Marrissa snapped, as she stood, and turned away from her father. "I can see it now. You contacted Admiral Quinn, who we all know has a soft place for me, having used one of his retirement promotions to promote me to Lieutenant." Marrissa's voice took one a passable imitation of her father's accent. "Gregory, my daughter just did something extraordinary. I wonder if you can see that she gets a Christopher Pike for it?"

Marrissa glared at her father, as she turned back around. Her eyes were full of fury. "Tell me, was my promotion to Lieutenant a similar agreement? Have you totally forgotten our agreement that you wouldn't interfere in any way with my career?"

Her father sat there calmly. He took a sip of his tea, looking at her untouched glass of cherry juice over the rim of his teacup. Marrissa followed his gaze, and with a deep exhale of frustration, sat down and picked up her drink. She took a long sip of the ice cold tart beverage. Her father remained quiet as she sat back, watching him take another sip of his tea, before placing it back on the saucer.

"Marrissa, you know the pains I have taken on your behalf to avoid taking a professional interest in your career, no matter how much it deserves such attention," Admiral Jean-Luc Picard said. "I did not write your evaluations. I wrote no recommendations, no matter how much you deserved them. If anything I retarded your career by both my actions and inactions. You served under my command for over three years..."

"One thousand days," Marrissa inserted, habitably.

"... yes, and there is not a single comment by my hand in your record, good or bad," the Admiral remarked, pausing to take another sip of tea. "I asked Commander Data the other day exactly how rare it is for an officer on a starship not to have such a comment, and he told me that I average a comment on a Lieutenant serving under my command every twenty-one point zero seven days. The average Ensign goes forty-two point thirty-nine days. You are the lone person to have zero comments in their records among all the Star Fleet Officers who have served with me since I made Lieutenant. "

The Admiral took another sip, "When you started applying for other posts after the loss of the Enterprise-D, and again after you'd been Security Chief for a year, the first question every single Commanding Officer who you applied for a post under was, why were there no comments from me in your record. They told me that they expected me to praise you, and privately, to you alone, I did, but otherwise, I kept quiet, and told my fellow Captains that I chose to avoid making a comment that may be interpreted as nepotism. I did not want to interfere in any way with your career. Inaction may have done more than action would."

"Then I got a message from the late Captain Sinclair, from shortly before the Seventh Fleet set out on its last mission. He remembered what I said when you applied to serve as his CONN Officer, and thought so highly of your suggestions in the pre-mission briefing that he told me to stop hiding my opinions of your work under my command," the former Captain of the Enterprise put his teacup down, making a firm click as it did. "You are my daughter, and I'm proud of you. I will not hide that fact any more. When Gregory contacted me I told him exactly what I thought of your service both under my command and as Acting Commander Seventh Fleet. You deserve this honor, Marrissa."

"You turned it down three times," Marrissa replied strongly. "Why should I not do the same?"

"Marrissa, you've turned down six different medals since you became a Star Fleet Officer," Jean-Luc Picard replied. "The only one you accepted was the one that came with the unit citation for the Essex Impact ... and as I recall, you had to be convinced by Queen Victoria to accept your Star Cross. Though I do think you were right in your acceptance speech that the letters of those you managed to save with your teams during that first day meant a lot more. That, however, is beside the point."

"Yes, I turned down the Christopher Pike when it was offered to me." Her father's eyes met her own, capturing her gaze. The moment he did, Marrissa knew that she had lost the argument. "First I was offered it during my Stargazer days, for something I did when I was young and foolish, and said so. I turned it down for the Borg Incident, then again when I was captured and tortured by the Cardassians, as well, because I believed that it was for the good of the fleet. You have no such arguments against it. The very man who you have just finished writing about said that it was time that I started making sure you get everything you deserve. So tomorrow morning I expect that you will tell Admiral Quinn that you accept."

Marrissa took another long sip of her cherry juice, a piece of ice sliding up against her upper lip. She put her now half-empty glass down. "Is that an order?" she asked.

"No, it is not," her father responded. "I hope, at least, that it is advice you will take seriously. At the very least, have a good night's sleep to think on it before you reject another honor." With that, Jean-Luc Picard put down his tea, and stood up. "As for that good night's sleep, do not make me have to talk to your Chief Medical Officer about the rings around your eyes."

"Aye sir."


End file.
